


To Learn, to Grow, to Love

by FriendlyFrat_Boy



Series: Usopp X Anybody (he needs it) [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Sabaody Archipelago, Romance, Slow Burn, Usopp got thrown into Jumanji what'd you expect?, feral Usopp, food-centered conflict and fluff, like the ones that chased Sanji for two years straight?, mute Usopp, no Heracles, no bromance we die like kings, playing with hair, survivalist Usopp, the okama are also here, they're not really a major player though, yeah them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24774127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FriendlyFrat_Boy/pseuds/FriendlyFrat_Boy
Summary: On Sabaody Archipelago, the nine were separated, sent to nine different locations to train, to grow stronger for the New World.Usopp was sent to the Boyn islands, but he didn't know that. When he came there, he didn't know anything, and he was alone. No teacher, no friendly face, no one to save him and accompany him. No one to keep him from sinking into hollow isolation. He spent two years there, on an island where everything tried to kill him and all he could do was hide and try to survive. When all is said and done, he's hardly the apex predator there. No, unlike Luffy, raw strength did not save him here. But he did survive. And he does escape.A mistake in his flying gear, aka a very large ant, left him stranded in the middle of the Grand Line. Luckily, he is found by Sanji on the revolutionary ship, and he is rescued. But he isn't alright, and Sanji notices this. Usopp needs to learn to heal, and perhaps, if things go just right, to love.-------Written for my buddy LooklingArt in exchange for a drawing, also cross-posted onto fanfiction.net so don't worry brothers.Enjoy!
Relationships: Usopp & Vinsmoke Sanji, Usopp/Vinsmoke Sanji
Series: Usopp X Anybody (he needs it) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1923634
Comments: 24
Kudos: 113





	1. Two Years Apart, One Moment Together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LooklingArt](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=LooklingArt).



> More fluff to come, I swear!

"What the fuck is that," Sanji muttered to himself, hand raised up to shield his eyes from the harsh rays of the sun as he peered out to sea.

He'd finally found refuge from the dozens of drag queens out for his dignity atop the mast of the ship. Why the hell had they insisted on coming along for his final journey to Sabaody Archipelago? Couldn't they give him some time to breathe out after these two horrible years?

Worst of all, they just wouldn't let him be in one place, not even on this damned ship. Sure, it was a rather large ship, fit for a whole gaggle of revolutionaries, but there just wasn't enough space to run away from all these drag queens for extended periods of time. The only place he could remotely consider safe was his private quarters, but that was only at night.

Regardless, he'd found some sort of solitude, perched up high on the main mast. Down below, he could see the dots that were his tormentors searching high and low for him. Some held dresses in their hands, others make-up. The pokers of the devils, he thought.

But he wasn't looking down there right now. No, for a while now, his attention had been focused on a little dot on the horizon. It was almost white and orange, but he could only barely tell that from the immense distance. For a while, he'd just thought it was the ship of some other crew or something. The sea was wide, and meeting other ships, as uncommon as it was, wasn't entirely rare. But something about that shape made Sanji reconsider that idea.

As time went on, soon enough, the dot became more visible, more defined in shape and colour. It seemed mostly white, with blots of orange and grey. But that's not the interesting part. No, the dot was, if Sanji still had his eyes still attached, an ant. Not in size, no, not in general shape, either. Just a straight up ant. If Sanji had been three years younger, still working at the Baratie in the mild East Blue, he would have doubted his eyes and/or sanity. Now… he really wouldn't be too surprised to see a giant ant out at sea.

Taking a drag of his cigarette (they'd thankfully let him restock every now and then) he continued observing the ant, as it was. Observation number one: it was big. Damn big. Big enough for a dozen people to ride on. Observation number two: it was dead. Dead as dust. Not one of the limbs was moving (one even seemed to be missing), the head was bobbing up and down lifelessly, and a pair of wings floated aimlessly at its sides. But the third observation, the one that made Sanji consider doing more than just observing the damn thing, was that something about it seemed to be alive.

It was still quite far away, so he could barely see it, but from his younger days, when spotting a ship was essential to life, he could make out a striking detail. Somebody was riding the ant. Well, less so riding, and more so just paddling along, using it more as a piece of driftwood than anything alive. The reason the person riding it stood out to Sanji was not how they continued paddling furiously despite barely getting anywhere, but more so their clothing.

Actually, the damn guy was barely dressed, his upper body mostly exposed, but what he was dressed in was all green. Hat? Green. Big, poofy pants? Green. The giant bag behind him, large enough to fit enough meat to satiate Luffy for five minutes? Very green. Damn green. All and all, the guy was a clear contrast to the dead ant itself.

But the final detail, the one that made Sanji willingly jump off the mast to greet the dozens of tormentors below, was his nose. Long and rounded at the tip. Not Kaku's, not anybody else's on the four damn seas…Usopp's.

The chances should have been next to impossible, the probability close to zero, but… There was no mistaking that nose. Ant aside, he wasn't about to let Usopp drift them on by. Promise to meet at Sabaody Archipelago be damned, Usopp clearly needed his help.

"Shitty Ivan!" Sanji called out, making his entrance on deck by planting his foot in the face of a surprised okama. With the skill and grace of someone who was clearly used to dealing with desperate unkillable machines of feminine beauty, he kicked the tormentor away before he had the time to try and make a grab for his ankles. A dozen other tormentors on deck turned to him with hungry eyes, sparing no sympathy for their "fallen" comrade. Sanji bit down on his cigarette and prepared himself for a long chase. He'd learnt long ago that there was no use trying to defeat all of them. One would always be replaced by two. His best bet had always been to run.

"What is it, Sanji-Kun?" Ivan asked, popping his slender, beautiful face out from the nook of some door Sanji hadn't noticed. Damn, he hated it when that shitty revolutionary used his powers to give him a female body. It was the only way Sanji had been able to see the female form for these past two years (outside of the imagination), but that didn't mean he liked it. If anything, it was more infuriating than his normal (albeit still terrifying) form. Kicking a pursuing tormentor in the face, Sanji turned to answer the admittedly sexy man. No words he'd ever want to hear himself utter, but it was true in this case.

"Turn the ship starboard, there's someone we need to rescue," Sanji said flatly, jerking a thumb at the still distant form of the ant. Ivankov trailed along his finger to gaze out at sea, where the ant was quite clearly visible. Humming, the man-in-the-body-of-a-hot-sexy-woman squinted at it, unknowingly copying Sanji by shading his eyes with his hand.

"Oh my! Inazuma, dear," the man mentioned emerged from behind Ivankov, thankfully as a man and not as a woman, "will you turn the ship starboard? Sanji-Kun, our newest member, would like to make a new friend." Inazuma nodded blankly and walked across the deck to do just that. Sanji followed his back with his gaze for a moment, before apprehensively jumping into the air to avoid being body-slammed by six okama at once.

As Sanji courageously jumped through the air, dodging missile-like drag queens left and right, the ship swerved harsly, the wood groaning just slightly as it was forced in a whole new direction. A few minutes passed, and soon enough, the ant was close enough to make out some actual details. Firstly, the man sitting on it was definitely Usopp. Tan skin, eager locks of hair going wherever they wanted to, circular eyes, and finally, long nose… Sanji was glad his assessment had been so spot-on.

However, what Usopp was doing made Sanji do a second take. He was paddling alright, but he was doing it with an oddly huge paddle. The paddle was black in tint, but where Usopp held it and where the end of it connected to the water, it was green, probably wrapped in leaves. But even more unnerving, Usopp simply hadn't noticed them. And they were close, too. In fact, they were just about to dangle down a ladder for him to hop onto.

But… he just didn't see them at all. Heavy, black bags hung from his eerily overfocused eye. Sanji could only see one visible eye, but it seemed dry, too intent on whatever he was looking for to even notice them. That wasn't all, either. No, his whole body had a strange tremble to it. His muscles, lean and toned under tanned plant-stained skin, were clearly exhausted. Sanji was no doctor, but as a proficient fighter, he knew what an overused muscle looked like. Bulging unnaturally and twitching with every movement - that was how Usopp's muscles looked like.

Furthermore, the actual movements that the muscles were executing almost seemed painful in how robotic they were. Paddle up, paddle to the front, paddle down, paddle back. Repeat on the other side. He… he'd been doing this for a while, hadn't he? Too long, if his muscles were anything to go by. Fixation. That's what it was. Usopp, as he was now, was the very image of unhealthy, self-destructive fixation.

"Oi, Usopp!" Sanji called out from the deck, where the okamas had thankfully let him do this without being interrupted. Usopp didn't even twitch at being called out to. Not a movement, only yet another paddle back. "Usopp! Listen to me, you shitty long-nose!"

Nothing.

That was enough. Sanji had been awaiting his meeting with Nami-swan and Robin-chwan for two years! And also everybody else. Meeting one of them early was a good thing! Seeing someone not in a dress, a man being a man... it made his heart flutter in a very strange way, and being met with exactly jack-diddly-squat in return did nothing to quell his frustrations. If anything, it only intensified them.

"RISE AND SHINE, SHITTY LONG-NOSE," Sanji roared, lunging from his place on deck to plant a sole in his friend's face. Even two years back, an attack by Sanji upon Usopp would send the latter man flying, but Sanji would at least have had the common sense to hold back. Now, however, he hadn't had a need to hold back for two years. Kicking an okama rarely sent them flying, and if it did, they usually came back with a vengeance and passion that reminded him of a starved Luffy. Or a sober Zoro. Both thoughts were equally terrifying.

This lack of restraint caused his empty-eyed friend to go flying at speeds nearing that of a subsonic missile. If Sanji had seen his friend's face as he flew, he would have noticed the sole-shaped burn-mark seared into the side of his face.

Sanji came to a stop on the ant itself, which was surprisingly buoyant. Usopp, thankfully, didn't fly too far, skidding to a stop only a couple dozen metres away. Silently, the man rose to the surface, his single, wide, terrified eye having regained some form of life as they scanned the horizon for whatever hurt him. And, in that scan, he caught a glance of Sanji, who was looking right back at him.

At seeing the smoking imprint on Usopp's face, Sanji couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. He hadn't meant to kick that hard, but… Nevertheless, seeing as how Usopp was looking right at him, he had to do something.

"Heyyy! Usopp, it's me! Sorry for hitting you!" he called out, smiling wryly as he waved to his blank-faced friend. The man in question did not respond. He didn't even smile. Just bobbed up and down, hazy eyes going from focused to glossed over, arms growing weak…

"Oh no you fucking don't," Sanji muttered to himself. Flexing his legs, he threw himself into the water, arms raised above him to form an arrow. He'd seen enough people drown to know what it looked like. He'd just never expected it to be Usopp. With his training, Sanji had become a very able runner/kicker/swimmer. If Usopp had been an airborne missile before, Sanji was now a torpedo, shooting through the water with little resistance.

There he was. Sanji's hunch had been correct to a tee - Usopp had bobbed right on under the surface and was currently just sort of sinking, not an uncommon sight for a devil fruit user, but odd to see in Usopp. If Sanji had been able to curse underwater, he would have. For now, he settled for an annoyed twitch of his characteristic eyebrow.

Another second passed, and Sanji was close enough to grab Usopp, which he did. One arm under his legs, the other on his back, he raised his friend to the surface in a carry he would usually reserve for the daintiest of ladies. Once his own head raised above the surface, carefully manoeuvring his friend so his head was above as well, he took a deep breath. He noticed quicker than he'd liked that his cigarette was soggy as all hell. Usopp seemed pretty out of it though, so at least he'd have no problem getting him aboard the ship.

Swimming back to the ship with Usopp in tow was easier than he'd originally thought. The only thing he hadn't braced himself for was Usopp himself. His muscles felt like coiled iron springs, permanently locked up in tension. The only thing accentuating this feeling was how every three seconds or so, a muscle would twitch harshly, in turn making another muscle twitch which would do the same thing to another, leading to a full-body shiver that almost made Sanji drop him the first time it happened.

"Stupid shitty long-nose falling off the ant…" Sanji grumbled to himself as he successfully climbed back on top of the ant, heaving up Usopp as well. He might as well grab Usopp's things while he was here. The only thing Usopp didn't have on his person seemed to be the obnoxiously large green bag, which seemed to be made of leaves or something. He kicked it aboard the ship, but gently, unlike how hed kicked Usopp. And that was it-, no, hold on, there was one more thing.

A strange, shiny black thing that almost seemed to have the shape of a hammer, right next to a hole in the ant that it had probably caused. The hammer, as it probably was, was sharp on one end and blunt on the other, the handle seemingly covered with blunt barbs on one end. Sanji picked it up in one hand, balancing Usopp in the other. It was heavy and clearly hard. It almost seemed to be from the chitin of some large insect, but that would be…

A glance at the elephant-sized ant he was standing on made Sanji feel like an idiot. Anyhow, the hole in the ant which the hammer had caused exposed flesh and some sort of yellowish goop. A quick step to the left prevented some of the goop from staining his spotless black shoes. Was he just imagining things, or was some of the flesh beneath the carapace scooped out…?

Let's ignore that. With the hammer in hand, Sanji jumped onto deck, successfully sticking the landing. The okama stared at him.

"If you dare attack me or Usopp, I will personally kick you overboard," Sanji growled, which kept them at bay. Happy with his newfound privacy, Sanji carefully let Usopp down to lie on the deck. He would have grabbed him a chair or something, but that could wait. Sanji hunched down next to his friend and did what usually worked after an event like this: pressed down on his stomach.

"Cough, splt, guhh-," Usopp spluttered, water escaping his air canals and wherever else it had been and splashing onto the deck. Propping himself up with one arm, Usopp heaved his upper body to the side to cough up more water. It felt strange that this was the first thing Sanji had heard from him. He hadn't said hello, he hadn't screamed when he was kicked, he hadn't begged to be saved… it felt wrong.

With the water expelled from his body, Usopp finally took the time to take notice of his surroundings. His exhausted, dim eye scanned the okama who had formed a ring quite a ways away, his attention eventually falling on the form of Sanji, who stood right in front of him. Sanji, bereft of smoking, decided to chew on his wet cigarette, mostly to hide his own anxiety over how… unlike himself Usopp was being. That big round eye of his stared at him, haze slowly, gradually replaced by dawning recognition.

But nothing more. This would be where Sanji would expect Usopp to say something like "ohmygodSanjiIwassoscaredthanksforsavingme" or just "Sanji! I missed you!" or even just a "the great Usopp-Sama did not need your help!" not… not this. His face was as blank as cardboard. The only part of his body that expressed anything, anything at all, was his eye. Bright and moist and disbelieving.

And then, he rose up. Slowly, stumbling, trembling and weak. No wonder, with how tense and overused his muscles were. Sanji followed his movements, rising as he did, until the two finally stood face-to-face. Usopp weak and taut, Sanji strong and stoic. Usopp as blank-faced and non-saying as Sanji had ever seen him, Sanji wearing his emotions and anxiety on his sleeve.

But it was Usopp who acted first. Sanji barely registered that first step, how Usopp practically jumped at him, arms flinging themselves around him, locked themselves around his body, his face buried into Sanji's still wet shoulder. His grip was iron, that much was for sure. Iron, and desperate. Sanji, in his surprise, could barely register how his shoulder got just a little wetter. How Usopp's trembling and uncertain fingers dug just a little bit more into his back.

Sanji could do nothing but return it. Absently, he noticed how Usopp had to stand on his tiptoes, just to reach to press his face into the nape of his neck. Two arms on his back, he held Usopp only barely. He didn't need to clutch him close, Usopp was doing all that by himself. He smelled of freshly cut grass and copper.

The second Sanji had that thought, all of Usopp's strength left him, and he fainted where he stood, falling back only to be caught in Sanji's arms once more. Sighing, Sanji manoeuvred Usopp into a princess-carry for the second time that day and headed for where he knew the infirmary was. He'd been chased around this ship dozens of times, and in this situation, he was happy, since it meant he could find his way easier.

The okama parted before him, creating a path to where they knew he was headed. Some of them shot Sanji unsavoury, knowing glances he didn't much like. He could even see a few of them eyeing up Usopp like he was a mannequin, but a sharp glare from Sanji shut them up. Some had the gall to squeal "Sanji-chan is so scary~", but Sanji didn't have the time or care to put the fear of God in them. Instead, he focused on the task of hand.

The man really was out like a light.

Soon enough, Sanji had found himself in the infirmary, where a slightly less buff man than the others was dressed as a nurse, with fishnet stockings and everything else that Sanji would never see in the same way. He decided to ignore the doctor, gingerly placing Usopp down on one of the many beds in the infirmary.

He hadn't noticed it much before, but Usopp was dressed very oddly.

His skin was as tan as it had always been, but it seemed less clear, more ashen than before. His upper body was mostly bare, and what Sanji could see was somewhat worrying. Green blotches from crushed plants and dried patches of what must have been blood aside, his chest and arms were covered in innumerable scars, most of them not having healed well at all. He could almost tell that one of the larger ones, crossing his right shoulder, had at some point been crudely stitched together. This did not mean that the wound had healed well. If anything, it almost seemed like the injury had just gotten infected by this. How Usopp had survived this at all could only be a mystery.

This aside, it seemed Usopp had switched his usual overalls for a pair of green, poofy trousers, kept in place by a pair of black leather straps spanning over his shoulders and down his back. Either these straps were made by Usopp himself, which wouldn't be too surprising, or he'd repurposed his old overalls to create them. Either way, the leather straps connected to something beneath the frilly poof of leaves that were at the top of the pants. This wasn't the only piece of clothing on Usopp that utilized these black straps.

Equally prominent was the large, spiked shoulder brace, also made by the chitin of some enlarged bug. It was connected to Usopp at three parts, one around the neck, one around the arm, and one running straight over his chest. This black chitin material could also be found as armour on Usopp's dark green pants, where they were haphazardly placed just about anywhere they could be fitted. He also seemed to have a large, more spiked piece of chitin adorning his left arm, probably to be used for defence or something, perhaps close-quarter combat?

Apart from this, he was pretty well-covered by leaves.

There was a big one on his head, a smaller one covering his left eye for some reason (Sanji really hoped their shitty sharpshooter hadn't lost an eye since that'd fuck up his vision for sure), a pair of leaves covered his ears for some damn reason, a bunch of long, bandage-like leaves covered his right arm (as well as the oar-thing he was still clutching onto), and leaves also seemed to be what made up the sheath of a machete that Sanji had only just now noticed on Usopp's hip.

Other interesting features would be the gloves and boots he wore, and what Sanji could only assume was his knapsack. The knapsack in question was almost the oddest feature of all. Calling it a sack was a bit presumptuous, and Sanji could only assume it was one because of its placement on Usopp's body. In short, it was a skull. A massive, sharp-toothed upside-down skull. Two pieces of chitin covered its eyes, and if Sanji peeked inside the hole under the teeth, he found it filled with things he had no idea what to make of.

Usopp himself was also quite different. His muscles seemed to have started relaxing now that he was passed out, but even when relaxed, it was clear his muscle-to-fat ratio was almost 1:0. It was a wiry, well-toned build, very similar to Sanji's own, clearly strong enough to do some damage in any situation. Sanji could feel a blush rising to his cheeks, but he didn't know why. Maybe it was seeing a normal, non-dress wearing man in so long. Still…

His hair was much longer. If it hadn't been tied down with an odd, orange-looking rope, it would surely have created an afro with a diameter of at least a metre. As it was, it reached down to his hips. Sanji really wanted to touch it, but touching people's hair while they slept was very rude, as tempting as it was. Somehow, he'd also grown a petite goatee, but in his face, it was hardly noticeable. No, what Sanji noticed instead, was exactly how sunken in Usopp's eyes were. Had they been open, they would have looked like a pair of eyes staring out from two black holes.

All and all, Sanji could only assume Usopp had been in a jungle for two years. A jungle with giant ants. Considering the chitin armour, giant insects, in general, wouldn't be too far-fetched. Sanji whipped out a new cigarette from the pack inside of his jacket, only to realize after snapping at it with a lighter for a few times that it was too soaked to use. He huffed angrily and crushed it in his hand, anger tugging at his eyebrow, making it twist up like a knotted muscle.

Why… why was he so angry? Usopp had survived, right? And if his own experiences were anything to go by, if Usopp's body was anything he could trust… he should be stronger now, right? So why did that gaze haunt him? Why did Usopp seem so broken? And why did that make Sanji so angry?

Kuma had done it for a reason. Ivan had said so, said they had to get stronger to survive, and Sanji had agreed. Like a fool, he'd told himself his Nakama would do well.

But Usopp wasn't well.

Usopp was scarred.

Could Sanji honestly say the scars on his body were any worse than those on Usopp's?

He almost fished out another cigarette, just on reflex. He glanced down at Usopp's unconscious body, and back at the okama doctor.

"If he wakes up, you tell me. And if he so much has a pink bow on him when I return, I'm flambéing you to hell," Sanji ordered, not waiting for a response to leave the infirmary. He couldn't stand to look at him if all it did was make him angry. Nonetheless, he did have something he had to do. Usopp's stuff. God only knew what was in that giant green bag, but whatever it was, he was sure Usopp wouldn't want it stolen by a bunch of curious drag queens.

Well on deck, he found the bag left alone, only a few okama still lingering around. One actually attempted to lunge at him, but a well-placed kick sent them flying into the Crow's nest, where they could think over what they'd just tried to do. With that done, he grabbed the bag. It was damn heavy.

If he didn't fear for its safety, he might have placed it in the infirmary with its owner, but the okama had no sense of privacy, so he hid it in his own quarters instead.

Sure, the okama usually didn't mind breaking into his house (a few unfortunate mornings where he woke up in a dress ensured that Sanji always slept with one eye open), but Ivan had told him that this trip would be different only in that aspect, and Sanji had for once actually felt grateful to that shitty queen of drag queens. His quarters really wasn't anything special, just a bed, nightstand, cupboard, and that was pretty much it. If he wanted to train making food, he'd have to use the common kitchen. At some point during the journey, all the okama had agreed that letting Sanji make food was better for everybody since he usually shared the food with them, and God was it good.

So, with Usopp's stuff secured in his room, drenched suit changed for a new, clean one, soaked pack of cigarettes switched for a fresh pair, Sanji went upstairs to the kitchen to get working on a soup or something for Usopp.

Something told him Usopp could use some good food.


	2. A Night of Guilty Pleasures,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sanji plays with Usopp's hair (there is no smut since fluff is life)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! Thanks for all the support and kudos! It really caught me off-guard since I wasn't expecting anyone to read this, but... it made me real happy!
> 
> This is a chapter that exists, but, sadly, it's a fair bit shorter than the last one, about only half its length. Why? Well, it was originally part of a chapter two that was about ten pages long, but I realized fairly quickly that I do not want to make chapters that are that long. Cool? Yes. Something I would love to read myself? Damn straight. Hotel? Trivago.
> 
> So, this was something of an intro to the second chapter in my draft, but now it's its own thing. The second part will be out as soon as I Finnish chapter 3, since I like having it all under control. I lost control with my main fic, now I write every chapter on the day of its release. Don't do what I do, kids.
> 
> With that said, enjoy this short little prelude!

“He’s still asleep?” Sanji wondered aloud as he stepped down into the infirmary. The doctor-nurse okama glanced up at him from his place by another patient (an unfortunate victim of Sanji’s rage at seeing soup wasted, “Sanji, I spilt soup all over me, won’t you help me~?”). As Sanji quickly noticed, the man wasn’t actually tending to the unfortunate fool, but instead painting his nail a hot, erotic pink. After the two met eyes for a second or so, the doctor took another look at Usopp where he laid in his own bed. 

“The poor thing has been out like a lamp, sweet thing,” the doctor said, answering Sanji’s unsaid question. It was the only thing he could have come there for. A quick look at his Nakama affirmed this conclusion. Usopp was asleep, at least, but it didn’t seem to be the kind of sleep you'd ever want to have. His covers were a mess and so was his hair. Sanji almost felt like shooting the doctor a dark glare to show his disdain at Usopp's dishevelled state, but the man had read his mind. “Ah, he’s been tossing and turning all night, fixing his covers don’t really do anything since the little thing will just turn right on over and mess them all up again.”

Sanji took a step towards the unmade bed, cigarette hanging loosely on his lip. An arm shot out to stop him, the still-wet nail polish glinting in the dim light of the overhead lanterns. “I wouldn’t recommend that, Sanji-kun. Anytime someone steps any close to him he shoots right outta bed. Scared the living daylights out of Tiffany, poor girl. He was hardly lucid, so it was more of a reflex than anything. Sad excuse of a man, he is.”

Gnawing on his cigarette, Sanji reluctantly took a step back. He’d only come down here in case. It was well past dinnertime, the sun was setting, and there was no doubt the doctor would soon leave to get some bedrest himself. The soup made specifically for Usopp (hearty chicken stew, no mushrooms, and just a pinch of Ivan’s special blend of hormones and spices) was still simmering on the stove, although Sanji had brought a steaming bowl downstairs just in case Usopp stirred awake. By the look of things, that wasn’t happening anytime soon.

He could practically feel the gaze gnawing into the side of his skull.

“-Sanji-kun~, you didn’t happen to bring that for me, did,”

“You can have it,” Sanji grumbled, tossing the bowl into his hands. The okama, proficient fighter as he was, had no trouble catching it without spilling a drop, the only challenge being doing so without smudging the yet-to-be-dried nail polish. “It’d go to waste otherwise.”

“Thank you, Sanji-kun~” the doctor cooed, sipping the warm meal without bothering to find a spoon or anything. Barbarian.

“Don’t mention it,” Sanji said, turning on his heel to walk away. The second he got up the stairs and out on the deck, he jumped up to sit on top of the roof connected to the door, of course making sure he wasn’t watched. The silver moon gleamed down at him in that vaguely romantic way that made him long for the sight of a woman. 

A flick of the wrist ensured that the burnt butt of his last cigarette trailed down and hit the water instead of the deck. A night like this wouldn’t be right without a cigarette or two. Absent in thought and feeling, he fished the pack out from within his coat, along with his little matchbook. One tap to open it, another to make one of the cigarettes pop out. A bite and it was in his mouth. For a moment, the silver sea and silver ship were bathed in the golden glow of a faint, glimmering match. The second he lit his cigarette, the match, now burnt up and useless, joined the other butt on the bottom of the sea. 

A deep breath and the calm of the seas truly overtook him. The ship rocking as gently and tenderly as a cradle. Sanji had never lived on actual, real land. The closest had been that time on the cliff with old Red-Legs, but that was almost too brief to call it a proper stay. No, his life had always been on the sea, and that was how he liked it. The salty air made him think of dishes he could make, and the slight twinge of algae only intensified his lust, his absolute joy for cooking. 

He wished he had time to take it in more right now. The way the stars shone with such brilliance that only the One Piece itself could hope to rival it, how the moon almost seemed merry where it swayed gently with the breeze… The horizon urging the sky and the sea to join and merge, no seam visible. And with the waves and roiling tides reflecting the stars above, it felt like being encapsulated in a giant, beautiful jewellery box. 

Beneath him, he could faintly hear the doctor leaving the infirmary, bringing his empty bowl with him, together with the one other no-longer-injured okama that had been in there, leaving the infirmary empty. Sanji didn’t move, not just yet. The night was still young, the chance of failure a rare but distinct possibility. Caring for your Nakama was one thing, but knowing how these damn okama had a way of spinning things, there was no way he’d let them know even a single detail of this. 

An hour came and went. The moon rose higher, and the darkness thickened like a good soup. When Sanji hopped down, he made sure that he air-jumped at the last possible second, making his landing a soft and silent one. Hand on the handle of the door, he found it unlocked. A bit odd, but better than having to silently bust it open. He’d take it. 

The inside of the infirmary was dark, but not entirely so. At the far end, by the small, round window overlooking the sea, there was a single, warm oil-lamp glowing softly, illuminating the one patient of the ward. It felt odd, being in the same room as Usopp, yet hearing absolutely nothing. Snoring, although it was more Luffy’s forte than anyone’s, was absolutely something Usopp was known for doing. Sanji could distinctly remember waking up in the middle of the night only to throw a pillow in the face of that shitty lawnmower. 

But now… nothing. It made him feel like Usopp was awake, just sort of waiting for him to step on over there. Ready. That’s what the doctor had said, wasn’t it? That he’d wake up for a second if you came too close? Damn, this was a terrible idea. Rest is what he needed, rest was what he was getting, so what, pray tell, was Sanji doing here? Delivering soup to the sleeping? No, he hadn’t brought any of that, so…

Why? Sanji was a man of logic, damn it, he couldn’t just go doing whatever he wanted because it felt like he had to watch over his Nakama or anything. Or… was it? Could he? 

Once more, Sanji gnawed just slightly on his cigarette, just to take out his frustrations somehow. With long, determined steps, Sanji made his way over to the bed, hands in his pockets and heart on his sleeve. The only thing preventing him from seeing Usopp was a thin, latex sheet, which also separated the beds and all. Sometime during his stay in Hell(™, patent-pending) he’d learnt that sneaking was a good way to avoid unnecessary battle. In this moment, that came in very good handy.

He made it just around the corner before being caught.

In Usopp’s bed, there was Usopp, and Usopp only. Sitting up, one visible eye wide and white, glinting in the silver light of the moon and the yellow light of the oil lamp. Sanji’s breath hitched, and he stopped dead in his tracks. Usopp’s face was as neutral and unmoving as a silicone mask, all emotion drained from it. Sanji didn’t dare move.

After about a minute or so, Usopp simply fell back down on his bed and resumed his restless sleep. Breathing out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been keeping, Sanji straightened his back and walked the rest of the way to stand right by Usopp’s bed. Curiously enough, right by the nightstand, a small, inconspicuous stool stood perched. As if somebody had left it there for him. 

Dismissing the thought, Sanji pulled it out and sat down, ready to spend the night by watching over his Nakama. Even when sitting this closely, Sanji could barely even register Usopp’s breathing. As soft as the first feathers of a chick. It couldn’t be comfortable sleeping in those clothes. With an eyepatch to boot. And his hair… It was almost impressive how long it’d gotten, but with how knotted up it was, it was more of a waste than anything.

Matted, dull and dusty. The short saltwater bath it had gotten had hardly done anything for it. Sanji couldn’t remember ever seeing it this… ill-kept. Behind Nami-swan, Robin-chwan and Chopper, Usopp was clearly the one who cared the most for his hair, somehow beating Sanji himself. That wasn’t odd or anything. Usopp had phenomenally curly hair, the kind that would make for an excellent afro. Smooth and shiny and fluffy. That’s how Usopp’s hair had always been, even when he first saw him on the Beratie. 

Now… not so much. It had clearly been greasy as all hell for quite some time, but now, the shine that should have been caused by this was covered up by a hefty layer of dirt, dust, and… was that caked-up blood?... Nah, let’s disregard that. Worst of all, it was knotted up to all hell, probably because of Usopp’s tossing and turning. Then again, with how deeply these knots were rooted, it was likely they had been around for quite a bit longer than that. Damn, what a mess this was…

Sanji didn’t have time to think before his hand was right beside Usopp’s face, a little lock of ebony black hair pressed between his fingers. It took all the will he had to stop himself from jerking his hand back, and even more to stop himself from blushing ever so slightly. But what he couldn’t stop himself from, no matter how much he tried to, was to just… roll the little lock back and forth in his hand. Feel how it felt on his palm. Let it slip in between his fingers. Gently, ever so gently, he tugged at the single lock, feeling it stretch and unwind, before letting it go, and like a spring, it jumped right back into its curled, up-tight shape, much like Usopp himself. 

Sanji didn’t even notice how a smile, a tender, gentle one, found its way onto his lips. 

Sometimes, when Sanji was cooking, he’d zone out in that strange way where he wasn’t quite the one cooking, but he was instead everything about it. He was the knives, the onions, the pots and pans, he was there in every minuscule detail, but he also wasn’t. That odd, thoughtless yet hyper focused frame of mind, that was how he felt at this moment. 

His hands moved on their own, leaving behind he little lock beside Usopp’s resting face to fully indulge in the whole of the hair. A gentle stroke along the whole of it, taking in all its uneven spots and smooth tones. Fingers parted, lightly running through the hair, from scalp to base, the knots and lumps sorted out with a gentle, loving hand, careful not to wake Usopp. A puff of his cigarette soothed his heart even further, and he could tell it did the same for Usopp. 

Usopp had calmed down. Sanji didn’t know how he could tell, but he just could. The tremble in his body, the last remaining remnants of tension in his muscles melted, his chest, which would heave and fall in quick, sporadic bursts, had calmed down, the breaths growing deeper and calmer with each passing minute. Life was calm.

It didn’t take too long until every knot and lump in Usopp’s hair were all sorted out. It would still need to be washed, but for now, this was all Sanji could do. But even when he didn’t have anything more to do, even when he didn’t have any more reason to continue, his hands just wouldn’t stop. Sanji couldn’t tell what time it was. It was surely past midnight. Exhaustion tugged at his eyelids, ordered him to succumb to sleep. But he couldn’t, he had to keep his Nakama safe, make sure he got soup when he woke up…

Warm, enriching soup…

That’d keep his bones…

Strong…

Sanji fell asleep.


	3. A Morning of Bitter Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Yo! We meet again! I have no idea if I'll continue this, but apparently I had this chapter all proof-read and done on the backburner, so I just read through it and did some new nitpicking, and here we are. We'll see if I continue it, but until then...
> 
> Enjoy! Please comment!

Usopp knew the second he woke up that he hadn’t done so because of anything happening to him. A rare occurrence by his standards, but very welcome. No, he had simply awoken. On his own.

The second thing that struck him as odd was that he was actually warm for once, a bit too warm, even, especially his… hand…

Sanji. Sanji was by his side! A friend! A human! A person!!

Usopp’s heart raced alive, adrenaline surging and blood pumping. A smile almost tugged at his lips, but as always, his deeply instilled need to be very very still at all times repressed the urge to show emotion. But even so, his eyes lit up in true joy. In the back of his mind, he could vaguely remember the events that had led him to this unfamiliar place.

He had been paddling along, his third day of sailing since Orenjiarisan died. Why had his third friend died so soon? According to his calculations, he should have had a whole month to get to Sabaody Archipelago. Man, when he set out, Orenjiarisan was only three days old, barely big enough to ride, but… it was necessary. Sure, he didn’t know how far away sabaody archipelago was, but it shouldn’t have taken more than a month or so, which was just about as long as Orenjiarisan was supposed to have lived, if Oreniarichi was anything to go by.

The thought of his first friend almost brought Usopp to tears, as it always did, but now… Now, he wouldn’t need to befriend ants! No scurrying about nests the size of castles, kidnapping larvae to raise and befriend!…

Once more, he glanced at Sanji, warmth filling his heart for his friend.

Sanji was asleep, snoring softly, his upper body draped over the side of the bed Usopp was laying on, and the reason Usopp felt so warm became obvious. Not only was he wearing a blanket (one that wasn’t made of leather and/or leaves), but Sanji had successfully fallen asleep over Usopp’s right arm.

Curiously, Sanji was also clutching Usopp’s hand, although this was probably just done unconsciously. Probably.

Usopp really didn’t want to pull his eyes from his friend, his Nakama, but his finely honed survival instincts told him he wasn’t in the clear just yet (ever). Sanji aside, he had to survey the situation, where he was. First of all, he was in a very nice bed. Soft, comfy. It was so soft that Usopp felt like crying. He didn’t. Secondly, wherever he was, he was certainly on the sea. The boat he was on rocked to and fro, making Usopp feel oddly nostalgic.

Strange as it was, even if he had spent far more time on land than on the sea, he always felt more at home on the latter.

The wooden floorboards and roof clarified that he was, in fact, on a ship. The colouration and unfamiliar swirls of the wood used showed that wherever this ship was from, it was not the East Blue or Grand Line. It was certainly not the Sunny. But, Sunny or not, he did have Sanji, and that was more than enough. The only other detail Usopp could notice was that he was currently in the medical bay of whatever ship he was on. It was large, too. A dozen or so beds were all lined up, swaths of cloth hung in between them. Usopp’s bed was the closest to a window.

It was a big ship, a foreign one, with Sanji on it.

Usopp couldn’t really make any assumptions, but he could somewhat tell that whoever owned it must have been a big-shot of some sort. Usopp wondered where Sanji had been sent. Maybe he went to a far-off kingdom, where he at first, like Usopp, tried to find a ship, but in his case, had to impress a court of noble cooks to do so? But, after failing to impress them with his divine cooking, they banished him! Desperate, he scoured the kingdom, only to find a paper, stating the situation regarding Luffy. Now motivated to succeed once more, he-,

No.

Usopp shook his head, banishing the thoughts. These are the sorts of stories that left him awake for nights on end. It wasn’t the insects that kept him awake those first few nights, no, they came later. It was his endless imagination, that cursed thing. But he didn’t need to imagine it any longer. What adventures his friends had gone on. What fun characters they had acquainted with. What gruesome fates they had met, too far away to help.

He was alright.

Sanji was fine.

Where he slept, Usopp couldn’t make out any anxiety on his sleeping face. No fear. No huddling, no frowning, no shivering from whatever nightmare he may be experiencing. Nothing like how Usopp had been sleeping for too long. That was all over.

Sanji was right there. His warmth spread into Usopp’s arm like life-giving blood. It felt good. Usopp felt happy.

For a while, Usopp simply stared at Sanji, a hidden, unseen smile spreading across his inner face. Nothing on the outside, everything on the inside. Hidden. Safe.

After a while, Usopp didn’t know how long, Sanji stirred awake. Usopp, enraptured with staring at Sanji, noticed it immediately. At first, his lips started tugging after a cigarette, one that Usopp had noticed on the ground. Then, the grip on Usopp’s hand tightened ever so slightly, and, finally, one eye peeked open. A haze covered his one visible eye, turning the dark grey-blue a slightly muddy colour.

The eye turned to the right, and then to the left, until it finally settled on Usopp.

There, it softened. Much as how Usopp’s heart had softened upon seeing Sanji, upon knowing he was safe.

But after a second or so, the haze lifted with a startle, and Sanji jerked his upper body awake, tumbling for a second to find his seating onto his chair. “Haaa,” he sighed, closing his eye briefly but immediately opening it when he noticed Usopp was staring at him.

“Oh, Usopp! You’re-,” he was probably going to say more, but somewhere along the way, he must have realized he was holding Usopp’s hand.

A tense second passed.

Eye met eye.

Usopp realized they were both hiding one eye, Sanji with his hair, Usopp with a leaf. Very interesting. Even more interesting was the fact that Sanji was clearly blushing, despite half of his face being hidden. Very impressive. Then again, his whole face was red, so it wasn’t that hard to see.

“Oh, I, uh, shit-,” a quick tug removed Sanji’s hand from Usopp’s and back to its owner’s side, “sorry, uh. Yeah.”

Sanji scratched behind his neck, the air thick and filled with a strange sort of tension. Usopp glanced at his now-empty hand, feeling sort of lonely without that warmth Sanji brought to it.

‘Sanji! It’s been a while! Where have you been? You feeling alright? A monster like you couldn’t have been challenged anywhere, right? Heh!’ Usopp thought to himself, stating nothing out loud. His face remained plain and neutral. Sanji, in turn, said exactly nothing, simply staring back.

“So, uh, what were you doing on that ant, Usopp?” Sanji asked, smiling tightly, his one visible eyebrow, that twirly little thing, quivering oh-so-slightly, clearly in some form of exasperation at his situation.

Usopp thought for a moment. It was a long story, wasn’t it?

At first, he had only worn the antenna for the pheromones.

If ants thought you were one of them, the chances of a horde of them attacking, maiming and butchering you was smaller by a fair amount. That meant one less enemy to worry about. It was only later that he realized ants might make for a good steed (friend).

The first friend had been an experiment. A test. Check how long they live for, if he can keep them as friends… that sort of stuff.

The second one was to get every detail right, to find out how well it could fly, what he had to do to tame it truly… all that.

The third friend had been the real one, meant to get him where he had to go.

Usopp did not say this out loud. He wanted to, of course, but he didn’t. He didn’t say anything. Maybe he simply didn’t realize he was supposed to say it, maybe he’d gone too long without saying a thing, either way, he didn’t speak a word.

When Sanji inevitably frowned at his lack of a response, Usopp could simply feel his heart sink. What had he done? Had he done something wrong? Was his answer incorrect? There was a pit in his stomach, and he didn’t know what to do about it.

“Um, Usopp, are you alright? You haven’t said anything… Don’t tell me you lost your tongue?!” Sanji exclaimed in a show of worry that Usopp found very, very humorous. It was funny, hilarious, even. He felt so much like laughing, but nothing came out. Just a stare. Sanji’s face seemed to grow more anxious by the second, but Usopp couldn’t really tell. He hadn’t seen a human face in two years. Barely even his own.

Silence stretched between them.

Sanji, silently, as silent as Usopp, reached over from where he was, his hand, the one that had held Usopp’s, reaching out to move from side to side in front of Usopp’s eyes. In turn, Usopp followed the hand with his gaze, showcasing his consciousness. Was that the question? Is that what Sanji was thinking about? Usopp didn’t know. He wished he still knew the intricacies of human features.

Sanji leaned back once more. His body relaxing against the chair in posture only. In every other way, he was as tense as a coiled spring.

“Usopp, if you can hear me, nod,” Sanji stated, folding his fingers over his chin and mouth. Usopp nodded. Sanji nodded back. “...If you’re not speaking because you can’t, shake your head. If you aren’t speaking for some other reason, nod again.” Usopp nodded again. Sanji sighed deeply. “Why?” Usopp furrowed his brows, the first facial expression he had done all day being that of confusion.

Yeah, why hadn’t he said anything? He had a tongue, he knew what to say, so… what was stopping him?

Nothing. Nothing was stopping him. So… let’s say something! Just a quick thing, like… ‘I’m sorry I worried you,’ or ‘I was on Orinarjirisan because he was a friend,’ or ‘will you hold my hand again?’

Usopp opened his mouth. Just a single word would do. It was okay, he was out of danger, his friend was right in front of him, he couldn’t be hurt here. And yet, the idea of speaking brought him back two years, to when he had just landed on what he liked to call “Murder Star Island”.

Days where his only companions were figments of his imagination dressed like his Nakama.

Luffy would stand hunched over him, asking if that odd plant he was holding was poisonous. Chopper would sit squatted by his side, inspecting the leaves and colourations, saying that it didn’t seem dangerous. Robin would laugh her little laugh, Zoro would grunt from where he was training, Brook would play a familiar, jovial tune, Franky would join Brook by playing the guitar, Nami would inspect the clouds above, and Sanji would be examining the flowers and trees and everything too, wondering what was edible and what wasn’t.

Usopp realized pretty quickly that talking out loud was a very good way of giving away your position to potential predators.

Breaking that old habit wouldn’t be easy. But it was possible. Usopp knew that.

His mouth hung open like a fish bereft of water. A hissing noise escaped, hardly even a sound. More alike the whisper of the wind than the words of any sentient creature. Something kicked in, something told Usopp that it took more than sound to make a word. His mouth twisted, lips contorting, jaws closing, until he finally found a form to his liking.

A sound escaped.

“I-,” Usopp said, and that was all.

Just a single word, ‘I’. It didn’t have any meaning, any reason for it. It was all Usopp knew how to say, all he could say, at least right now. Sanji lit up. A smile pranced about Sanji’s lips. Usopp wanted to return it. Instead, he opened his mouth once more, readying his vocal cords for another burst of activity.

What escaped his lips was not a pleasant noise, but instead a hiss that clawed at his throat.

Buckling over, Usopp squeezed out a raspy cough, his throat and mouth turning dry and sandy. Beyond the terrible feeling in his throat, Usopp noticed, if only barely, how Sanji stood up, sliding his calloused hand over to cradle Usopp’s back. It felt warm and good, Usopp knew that, but somehow, his focus laid more in his coughing-fit.

“Oh! I’ve got something for you, just wait a moment,” Sanji said in a chipper tone, a grin enveloping his face in joy, hiding the worry with excitement. Usopp could barely hear it, barely see how Sanji bolted out of the room, his heels clicking faintly on the wooden floor.

After a few seconds, Usopp finally got his coughing under control. It seems his prolonged sleep had dried him up a fair bit.

Back on Murder Star Island, he used to mainly drink the blood of insects, since it was both filled with nutrients and also one of the few sustainable ways of getting any liquid. He only got access to the sea after a good few months, and changing his habits at that point had been too bothersome to try. Sure, there were plenty sweet and carbonated fountains and waterfalls in the inner sanctums, but he knew not to step a foot in there.

Not after what had happened his first few weeks.

Just the thought of it all made Usopp feel like puking. He had almost died so many times, but that had been his closest encounter with death.

Less than a minute passed, and Usopp sat there in silence, staring at a wall. His senses were spread wide and sharp. They were out in the middle of the sea, that was correct. The boat was filled with a few hundred well-built men with strong wills. Sanji, along with two others shone exceptionally bright. Usopp couldn’t help but focus in on Sanji in particular. Like the moon among a million stars. Bright and encompassing. Warm, and right there.

Just being near that warmth made Usopp feel good. Better than he had in so long.

The light got closer at a rather quick rate. It seemed Sanji was returning.

A few more seconds passed, and the door to the infirmary burst open, Sanji practically jumping down the stairs to greet Usopp with a big, warm smile. Usopp stared back, a smile hiding behind paralyzed features. Realizing he might have been a bit too excited, Sanji straightened his back, cleared his throat, and took on a serious expression.

In his hands, he held a tray, where Usopp could see a steaming bowl. A strong smell enveloped the infirmary, and Usopp wasn’t sure what he thought about it. Somehow, he felt repulsed.

Sanji stepped forwards, walking slowly, with all the dignity of a former waiter, his back as straight as a ramrod. Once he came up to Usopp’s bed, he gingerly placed the wooden tray atop Usopp’s lap, revealing exactly what was on it. Namely, a bowl filled with a hazy, oil-spill looking stew, a glass filled with some milky white liquid (probably milk, but what did Usopp know?), and a small bowl filled with a sickly sweet pile of defecation-looking goop.

Usopp stared at it. His sensitive nose, assaulted with smells he could hardly describe as enticing, scrunched up ever so slightly. Usopp glanced up at Sanji, his brows furrowing slightly, but Sanji only smiled, his eyes filled with pride and consideration.

“This,” he gestured towards the bowl of steaming oil, “is a Ragout de boeuf, with a bone-broth and enriching, strengthening hormones. Don’t worry, I’ve been learning how to cook well for two years, this’ll taste even better than you might remember! And, plus, it’ll strengthen you right up!” Grinning broadly, Sanji turned to the other two parts of the meal. “This is just normal milk, but I added some honey to make it go down easier and soften up your throat. But this, this right here, this is some good shit. It may not look like much, but it’s sure to make you feel like you’re back on the Sky Islands, I swear it! Dig in!”

Repulsive. Absolutely repulsive.

Usopp did not want to so much as touch any part of this, much less put any of it in his liehole.

The only smell he liked right now, the only smell he actually wanted to smell more of, were the soft notes lingering around Sanji’s neck; of his cologne. It was so far removed from this reeking stench in front of him, but he could somewhat smell it still. Soft, welcoming… surprisingly flowery, almost feminine in its touch and feel. Like orange flowers, or black locust blossoms. Soft, indolic notes.

Usopp could tell Sanji had worn the cologne for a while, that this was its dying breath, but it only made Usopp long for what it might have smelled like a few hours earlier.

What passionate beauty had been peeled off to reveal this soft hibiscus scent.

A single visible eye, murky yet clear, like the milky waves of a calm sea hiding the dark depths below, stared back at Usopp, waiting. Why was he looking at him like this? Usopp just wanted to try and pick out his scent from the myriad of filthy tainted air.

Was he expecting something? A nod towards the tray informed Usopp of exactly what Sanji wanted.

Oh. Right. Um. No thank you?

Usopp pushed the tray just a bit away from him. A glance at Sanji revealed a confused expression upon the handsome love-cook. “What’s wrong? Eat up while it’s hot,” Sanji urged, sitting back down next to the bed. If he wasn’t so confused, he might have almost seemed worried. Maybe he was. Realization dawned within that deep eye of his, and Sanji turned back to Usopp. “Oh! Don’t tell me you’ve…? I, well, um…”

Sanji tucked a stray lock of his golden hair behind his ear and leaned in closer. His breath grew closer, smelling faintly of cigarettes and thousands of tasted foods and spices.

Usopp would rather have gotten a taste of his lips than of the disgusting things on his lap. Sadly, Sanji did not lean closer to Usopp himself, but instead grabbed the spoon beside the bowl of oil. A quick dip into the bowl filled the spoon with the ominous liquid.

Even while on the spoon, it was still hot enough for a generous amount of steam to rise from it, a putrid, unnatural smell trailing after it. With one hand beneath the spoon to ensure not a single drop was wasted, Sanji raised it towards Usopp’s face. Usopp tried desperately to make eye contact with him, since he wanted that goop nowhere near his face, but the man was avoiding his gaze, a faint blush and an embarrassed scowl ensuring that he had not, in fact, understood Usopp’s intentions.

The next few events passed so rapidly that Usopp could barely even understand them himself.

His own body twisted, aching muscles springing to life with an angry whimper, hand flying up to slap the spoon away from him, and in the rush of activity, his whole body moving in tandem, everything went flying.

The tray, the oil, the mystery goop, the honeyed lactation… It all splattered on the floor. A single moment passed, a moment spent by Usopp heaving and panting and panicking, and by Sanji figuring out what the fuck had just happened.

The very next second, following a hefty kick to the side, Usopp, too, was on the floor, lying in a heap of cutlery and bowls and oil.

Another second, and Sanji stood above him, fists and jaw clenched so tightly his knuckles were turning white and his teeth were making a strained, grinding sound.

Usopp’s chest heaved. The blanket he’d been covered by was now haphazardly thrown around him, twisting around his leg and draping over the ground, where it soaked up a good portion of the spilt oil.

“You-, you dare disrespect a cook? At… at SEA?” Sanji croaked, his voice thick and cracking with the tension of it. Usopp could only stare back, his mouth slightly agape.

He hadn’t meant to. He knew what such an action meant to Sanji.

But he hadn’t been thinking.

He acted on instinct.


End file.
